Turning 40, and my own Cask of Amontillado...
Good Lord, it has been awhile since I have updated this thing. In truth, I think often of how I've documented my life for the past almost TWENTY TWO years. I also realized I stopped writing in my planner when I had changed my full-time job out of the Volcano Harbor. Uh, since then, I've quit that full-time job, picked up a few contracts with Volcano Harbor, and slowly expanded my private practice focusing more on fire service. I've been asked to write a blog post. I've picked up three supervisees. I've manipulated my schedule to work less during what I'm calling my "summer sabbatical" to toddle and clean my and Momma's houses, to finally get our spaces in order. Fidget has had a full-time job since August (!) which has given us the financial space we've needed and allowed me to back off significantly. It's wild how the full-time gig slowly dwindled down and then I faded into that good night- no fanfare, no good luck, nothing. I logged off on a Friday and that was the end of my story there. However, that's more evidence that I needed to go, that it had served its purpose for the 1.5 years of my life it needed to, and now I could take a rest from being the sole breadwinner for over seven years.
We did lose CheddarLion in October, and now that foster sister mentioned is a full-fledged member of the house. Lillycat is this big, cuddly terror that bounces through the house, knows no personal boundaries, and chirps incessantly when she's alone. Ducky remains my big cuddlebug, fully rehabbed, and wants snuggles repeatedly from me. Sadie, however, is very, very mad that she now has a little sister four years her junior and repeatedly gallivants after her, tries to eat her, and tears apart cardboard boxes when her two remaining teeth cannot penetrate Lilly's soft, soft fur. We're a three-cat household which amounts to roughly 45 lbs of cat, but only 11 legs because, Sadie.
Maybe the past 1.5 years were truly a whirlwind with the prior job and I literally couldn't figure out how to document anything. My planner this year is awesomely empty; Future Jess will only know what budgeting happened. My main focus over the past several months has been decluttering and reorganizing, and I finally gained some traction! We ended up hosting Bluejay, Kenickie, and their kitchenettes during their whirlwind East Coast tour. I have rearranged my guest room, a friend built a cabinet, I've removed 60+ books from our home not to mention the Goodwill donations, donations to various shelters, dropping off old paint and going to the dump, and spending 2.5 hours running errands of just dropping off weird shit that's lived in my house for too long. Fidget and I left for our five-year (!) wedding anniversary trip to return to put the finishing touches on our house before a very large group of people assembled in my driveway and there were children in my house.
In true Jess fashion, my HVAC died the Friday before they came.
Thankfully, it wasn't horribly hot yet so we were able to sleep with windows open. The HVAC unit was replaced that Monday when we all went to D.C. to look at dino bones and Fidget lived his best hooky life and played video games all day while two very large men rattled around in my basement. We came home to air conditioning, kvetched about being Adults, and moved on with our lives. I looked at the budget, moved around monies since we had been saving for this, and was able to pay everything off responsibly. An investment we knew would be coming; weren't happy we had to pay it right then, but ultimately were able to do it. They moved onto to their next stop, and that Thursday, I went down into the basement to sort and clean with my new HVAC unit. Instead, I found water damage behind where a shelf used to be and had been for roughly eight years. Great.
The following week, I brought a small man into my basement. He punched holes in my wet drywall, bagged some of it up, and promptly Scooby-Doo-ed out of my house. I asked him, dumbstruck, who do I call? What do I do? And he just, uh, left. And I looked into the abyss of a crawlspace that spanned half of my house that we didn't know was there for ten years where a boulder that was the size of two Duckys had knocked into the drywall to start the damage. I saw a joist that was splintering under my living room floor. I was alone, with cats, and absolutely NO IDEA how to manage this newfound Cask of Amontillado in my basement.
No. Seriously.
Looking into the abyss with boulders, and so, so much dirt. Every Single Person I show that picture to either curses profusely or is just gobsmacked.
I promptly sent the above picture to Fidget with a string of expletives. I called Momma, but her brain went blank and she had to take a nap. Obviously, my house hadn't collapsed in the 113 years it had been standing, so we were alright, but--- who do you call for this? My brain started spinning- would we need to rent a POD to sit in our driveway? Do me and Fidget and all of the cats need to move in with Momma?
As my brain continued to spin, I felt a guttural, visceral punch in my abdomen. I missed my father. And then I sobbed and sobbed, and Ducky looked CoNceRNed. I called our insurance company and cried about my dead father and the hole in my house- they told me they can't do anything since nothing "technically" happened except a short man punched a hole in my wall. And I sent expletive after expletive to Fidget, at which point Mr. Fidget called me because he is a Man that Fixes Things and Has Fought Water. So I choked back a sob from my nonhelpful but very apologetic insurance people to talk to my father-in-law. And then I sobbed more because there was a hole in my house and my father was dead and now my father-in-law was calling and WHAT DO YOU. EVEN. WHAT?
I canceled my earlier sessions, telling my paramedics that I was having a "house emergency" and that it "was not fire" and just sobbed on my couch. Fidget came home early, asked me if I wanted a hug, and then I STRAIGHT UP KEENED into his chest because our house was collapsing and my dead father was very dead.
Unexpected Grief Burst was Unexpected.
Then my brain came back online, Fidget and I called basement people, and we had two estimators out here who walked around the entirety of the basement of my house behind my walls? Like they were stowaways? Full-grown 6'3"+ men just chilling behind the walls of my basement. Both said it was "wild" and why would they put lumber into DIRT and then just put up drywall? I have no masonry. I have no knee walls. Just lumber into dirt and some drywall like, nothing to see here, folks, just move along. But! They both said my foundation was good and my living room wasn't going to collapse, and then my crisis brain calmed the hell down and we don't have to live with Momma.
And then I turned 40. The night before I turned 40, I drove to Pittsburgh with a new friend from church (!) to see a comedy act, slept five hours, then awoke on my birthday to leave a college friend's house at 0800 and drive another five hours home. 0nn came down that evening, brought me a homemade cake, and we languished on my couch until 0200 watching YouTube videos about organizing our houses. While everything from the basement cluttered up my dining room because of the Cask of Amontillado and THIS is why I can't have nice things.
The day after, the thought of leaving my house was absolutely absurd. Instead, we hung out, I did chores, and 0nn talked to Fidget playing Fallout while I sewed buttons onto shirts. It was quiet. And comfy. And my body was finally relaxing from the chaos of my birthday week.
In short, the month of June has been absolutely WILD. I have minimal thoughts about being 40- I can't figure out if I'm more surprised my mother is 70 or that I'm 40. Especially when there are times I very distinctly still feel like I'm 19. But now, I understand why my parents were exhausted at this age. Adulting is absolutely frigging ridiculous. I was Not Prepared to deal with a Cask of Amontillado. But ultimately, it will be handled- it'll be another investment, the cats will be sequestered to allow strange men to run around in my basement walls, and I will prevail. This summer sabbatical isn't very "sabbatical-y" but still very, very on brand. Don't turn 40, kids...
... your house will turn into an Edgar Allen Poe story.
We did lose CheddarLion in October, and now that foster sister mentioned is a full-fledged member of the house. Lillycat is this big, cuddly terror that bounces through the house, knows no personal boundaries, and chirps incessantly when she's alone. Ducky remains my big cuddlebug, fully rehabbed, and wants snuggles repeatedly from me. Sadie, however, is very, very mad that she now has a little sister four years her junior and repeatedly gallivants after her, tries to eat her, and tears apart cardboard boxes when her two remaining teeth cannot penetrate Lilly's soft, soft fur. We're a three-cat household which amounts to roughly 45 lbs of cat, but only 11 legs because, Sadie.
Maybe the past 1.5 years were truly a whirlwind with the prior job and I literally couldn't figure out how to document anything. My planner this year is awesomely empty; Future Jess will only know what budgeting happened. My main focus over the past several months has been decluttering and reorganizing, and I finally gained some traction! We ended up hosting Bluejay, Kenickie, and their kitchenettes during their whirlwind East Coast tour. I have rearranged my guest room, a friend built a cabinet, I've removed 60+ books from our home not to mention the Goodwill donations, donations to various shelters, dropping off old paint and going to the dump, and spending 2.5 hours running errands of just dropping off weird shit that's lived in my house for too long. Fidget and I left for our five-year (!) wedding anniversary trip to return to put the finishing touches on our house before a very large group of people assembled in my driveway and there were children in my house.
In true Jess fashion, my HVAC died the Friday before they came.
Thankfully, it wasn't horribly hot yet so we were able to sleep with windows open. The HVAC unit was replaced that Monday when we all went to D.C. to look at dino bones and Fidget lived his best hooky life and played video games all day while two very large men rattled around in my basement. We came home to air conditioning, kvetched about being Adults, and moved on with our lives. I looked at the budget, moved around monies since we had been saving for this, and was able to pay everything off responsibly. An investment we knew would be coming; weren't happy we had to pay it right then, but ultimately were able to do it. They moved onto to their next stop, and that Thursday, I went down into the basement to sort and clean with my new HVAC unit. Instead, I found water damage behind where a shelf used to be and had been for roughly eight years. Great.
The following week, I brought a small man into my basement. He punched holes in my wet drywall, bagged some of it up, and promptly Scooby-Doo-ed out of my house. I asked him, dumbstruck, who do I call? What do I do? And he just, uh, left. And I looked into the abyss of a crawlspace that spanned half of my house that we didn't know was there for ten years where a boulder that was the size of two Duckys had knocked into the drywall to start the damage. I saw a joist that was splintering under my living room floor. I was alone, with cats, and absolutely NO IDEA how to manage this newfound Cask of Amontillado in my basement.
No. Seriously.
Looking into the abyss with boulders, and so, so much dirt. Every Single Person I show that picture to either curses profusely or is just gobsmacked.
I promptly sent the above picture to Fidget with a string of expletives. I called Momma, but her brain went blank and she had to take a nap. Obviously, my house hadn't collapsed in the 113 years it had been standing, so we were alright, but--- who do you call for this? My brain started spinning- would we need to rent a POD to sit in our driveway? Do me and Fidget and all of the cats need to move in with Momma?
As my brain continued to spin, I felt a guttural, visceral punch in my abdomen. I missed my father. And then I sobbed and sobbed, and Ducky looked CoNceRNed. I called our insurance company and cried about my dead father and the hole in my house- they told me they can't do anything since nothing "technically" happened except a short man punched a hole in my wall. And I sent expletive after expletive to Fidget, at which point Mr. Fidget called me because he is a Man that Fixes Things and Has Fought Water. So I choked back a sob from my nonhelpful but very apologetic insurance people to talk to my father-in-law. And then I sobbed more because there was a hole in my house and my father was dead and now my father-in-law was calling and WHAT DO YOU. EVEN. WHAT?
I canceled my earlier sessions, telling my paramedics that I was having a "house emergency" and that it "was not fire" and just sobbed on my couch. Fidget came home early, asked me if I wanted a hug, and then I STRAIGHT UP KEENED into his chest because our house was collapsing and my dead father was very dead.
Unexpected Grief Burst was Unexpected.
Then my brain came back online, Fidget and I called basement people, and we had two estimators out here who walked around the entirety of the basement of my house behind my walls? Like they were stowaways? Full-grown 6'3"+ men just chilling behind the walls of my basement. Both said it was "wild" and why would they put lumber into DIRT and then just put up drywall? I have no masonry. I have no knee walls. Just lumber into dirt and some drywall like, nothing to see here, folks, just move along. But! They both said my foundation was good and my living room wasn't going to collapse, and then my crisis brain calmed the hell down and we don't have to live with Momma.
And then I turned 40. The night before I turned 40, I drove to Pittsburgh with a new friend from church (!) to see a comedy act, slept five hours, then awoke on my birthday to leave a college friend's house at 0800 and drive another five hours home. 0nn came down that evening, brought me a homemade cake, and we languished on my couch until 0200 watching YouTube videos about organizing our houses. While everything from the basement cluttered up my dining room because of the Cask of Amontillado and THIS is why I can't have nice things.
The day after, the thought of leaving my house was absolutely absurd. Instead, we hung out, I did chores, and 0nn talked to Fidget playing Fallout while I sewed buttons onto shirts. It was quiet. And comfy. And my body was finally relaxing from the chaos of my birthday week.
In short, the month of June has been absolutely WILD. I have minimal thoughts about being 40- I can't figure out if I'm more surprised my mother is 70 or that I'm 40. Especially when there are times I very distinctly still feel like I'm 19. But now, I understand why my parents were exhausted at this age. Adulting is absolutely frigging ridiculous. I was Not Prepared to deal with a Cask of Amontillado. But ultimately, it will be handled- it'll be another investment, the cats will be sequestered to allow strange men to run around in my basement walls, and I will prevail. This summer sabbatical isn't very "sabbatical-y" but still very, very on brand. Don't turn 40, kids...
... your house will turn into an Edgar Allen Poe story.